“We all know a veteran metalhead who shows up to every gig – that older fella who has been going to shows since 1974, standing in the same spot, never going to the toilet, just nodding his head and occasionally, slowly, raising horns to the sky. He usually has wispy grey-white hair that flows, wizard like, to his ankles. He usually wears a faded Morbid Angel t-shirt purchased at a ’87 gig when they passed through the town. He has a battle jacket packed with patches of obscure speed-metal bands from 1985 and crust-punk bands from Wales. He was born on the sticky floor of the venue. He is God. The members of Shed the Skin are the same. They’re the grizzled veterans of the death metal scene.” Olde skin.
